


Tomorrow's Dreams

by notfreyja



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Academy Era, Character Study, M/M, Pre-Slash, Telepathy, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-07 07:23:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19204633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notfreyja/pseuds/notfreyja
Summary: Vulcan's do not dream. This is a known fact.Then why does Spock dream of the stars, the ship that sails among them, and the crew aboard her?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My contribution to the 2019 Star Trek Reverse Big Bang!
> 
> Art by the lovely [thrive-in-silence](https://thrive-in-silence.tumblr.com/) can be found [here.](https://thrive-in-silence.tumblr.com/post/185576276759/my-entry-for-startrekreversebang-d-this-was-my)

 

 

The growl of a Le-Matya is not far behind him, but Spock knows better than to look back. The moment that it would take for him to properly gauge the distance between the predator and himself (the prey) would be a moment too long. For le-matyas are fast, and they are smart, and this one is hungry.

 

Spock’s only hope at survival is the chance that this one is hungry enough to tire quickly.

 

By the way that the sounds of snarling and scuffed sand are drawing closer to his heels, the hope is slim.

 

There doesn’t seem to be a way out that Spock can see, and he doesn’t have the energy to think of one. All he knows now is the pounding of his feet against the sand, the sharp drag of cold desert night air in his lungs.

 

Suddenly, the cadence of his run is cut, one traitorous foot catching on a rock below the surface of the sand. The world tilts, he goes sprawling onto the ground with enough speed that the sand scraps the palms of his hands. Spock ends up laying on his back, the wind knocked out of him, and the exhaustion in his limbs is so much he fears that he cannot stand again.

 

He is only seven years old, and he does not know much. But he knows that he does not want to die.

 

He forces his shaking body (a mixture of pain, exhaustion, and adrenaline pushing his muscles to near disobedience) up onto his arms into a nearly sitting position.

 

And there, against the star-speckled inky black of the Vulcan night, is the le-matya. It’s eyes glint in almost satisfactory gloating as it sees it’s prey flat on his back, muscles rippling under it’s green skin as it stalks forward, no longer bothering to run. It bares its teeth, mere feet away, and Spock knows without doubt that this is the end.

 

He only has time to hope, illogically, that it doesn’t hurt too much.

 

With a roar, a shadow passes over him, momentarily blackening the stars as a dark form crashes into the beast. The two animals writhe together, clawing and biting and-

 

“I-Chaya!”

 

Spock’s sehlat, old and gentle, followed him into the desert. And now he’s going to save his life.

 

“Spock!” A familiar voice, his cousin Selek.

 

With a whimper the le-matya breaks free of I-Chaya and darts into the night, to lick its wounds before it goes in search of its next meal.

 

“Spock, are you injured?” Selek crouches down in front of him.

 

“Not severely.”

 

He does not have time to wait for his cousin’s reply, for I-Chaya chooses then to limp over to the both of them and collapse. The sehlat whines, rests his head in Spock’s lap, and goes quiet with laboured breaths.

 

“What’s wrong with him?” Spock asks Selek, eyes wide.

 

Very un-Vulcan like sadness enters his cousins eyes. It reminds Spock of his mother. “The poison of the le-matya. He isn’t going to make it.”

 

It’s too much. The fear, the exhaustion. The way shock is wearing off coupled with the realization that due to his own foolish need to prove himself, his best friend is about to die. All of it is simply overwhelming.

 

Spock’s vision swims, and all goes dark.

  


*.*

  


_You almost make me believe in luck… I’m sick off logic… you have the conn… If I hear the word ‘frequency’ one more time I’ll cry…_

  


*.*

  


Spock wakes in his own bed, the soft light of dawn shifting in through the window. There’s a moments pause where he tries to connect the events of the night before, and then it all comes rushing back. The desert, the le-matya, Selek.

 

I-Chaya.

 

Tears begin to well in his eyes, but he wills them away. It is not logical to cry. Vulcans do not cry. But lying there in his bed leaves him with nothing to do but wallow in the loss of his friend, so he rises.

 

He finds his cousin Selek in the courtyard.

 

“Spock, you look rested.”

 

“I am.” He sighs. “Last night, you and I-Chaya saved me.”

 

Selek’s eyes go soft in a rather non-Vulcan manner. “Do you remember what happened after?”

 

“I do. I-Chaya is dead.” He has to work to keep his voice even. “How did we get home?”

 

“I carried you, you had collapsed.” Selek nearly frowns. “Spock, it is important that you understand what happened last night was not your fault.”

 

“But I ran off. If I-Chaya hadn’t followed me-”  


“You would be dead.” Selek lays a hand on Spock’s shoulder. “Mourn him, but do not blame yourself. _Kaiidth._ ”

 

Spock nods. “I understand. Are you staying?”

 

“No, I must continue on. I have already said farewell to your parents.” He draws back. “Live long and prosper Spock.”

 

“Peace and long life, Selek.”

  


*.*

  


With Selek gone, life returns to normal. Or as close to normal as it can be without I-Chaya. But the sun still rises, his parents go to work, and Spock goes to school. His ordeal in the desert seems to have been forgotten, though his mother does fret over his well-being a little more than normal.

 

It’s when things start feeling as they should that everything gets turned upside down. Five days after Selek leaves, for the first time in his life, Spock has a dream.

  


*.*

  


_An older Vulcan lays in a biobed, in an otherwise empty room. The room itself is sterile, most likely a hospital. But something about it is off. The room is too cold, the walls completely bare except for those with medical equipment upon them._

 

_There are no windows._

 

_Spock has never been in a room like this in his life. But there is something familiar here, just under the surface, if only he could figure out what it is._

 

_And then it hits him. The Vulcan in the bed is Sarek, his father. Older than he should be, slight gray in his hair, but Sarek nonetheless. He looks pale, tired somehow, even while sleeping._

 

_Cautiously, fearing that any wrong move will shatter the illusion before him, Spock walks over to the bed. Above it is a screen, reading out vital signs and blood oxygenation and a whole lot of other technical data that he doesn’t even begin to understand._

 

_But he understands enough to know that his father is dying._

 

_“Spock.” A soft call from behind him. His mother’s voice._

 

_Perhaps she will have some answers, some logic to apply to the current insanity._

 

_He turns to face her, and the scene goes black._

  


*.*

  


“Spock?”

 

He opens his eyes. He is in his bed in his room. Nothing has changed since last night other than the rising of the sun.

 

Trying not to show how rattled he is, he sits up. “Yes, mother?”

 

“You’ve overslept a little. Just checking to make sure you’re alright.”

 

Is he? Spock is unsure. But he knows that whatever just happened to his mind, it would cause his mother (human and emotional) distress. And he’s already put her through so much these past days.

 

“Yes, I am well.”

  


*.*


	2. Chapter 2

Spock spends his free period at school that day researching dreams. His schools public archive has access to more data than he would have on his own and he puts it to good use. His findings are as follows:

 

Many species in the federation dream. Vulcans do not.

 

Humans in particular are prone to emotional dreams, often subconscious projections of current stress and concerns.

 

No one is quite sure why dreaming occurs.

 

All in all, the research is quite useless. Pages of data do nothing but confirm what he already suspected. He had a dream because he is half human, and he just lived through something deeply distressing.

 

But none of that explains why it had never happened before. Spock has been stressed before, after all.

 

The only logical conclusion is that the loss of I-Chaya was harrowing enough to affect the small part of his mind that is human in design. By that logic, with sufficient meditation, it will never happen again.

So Spock makes the only rational decision that a seven year old Vulcan uncertain of their place in the universe can make. He’ll just have to work harder on his mental disciplines, and tell no one of his episode.

 

Besides, if this happened because of I-Chaya, then it will not happen again. It’s not like he’s going to lose his sehlat for a second time. He’s gone.

 

It turns out, ramping up his meditation routine buys him six days.

  
  


*.*

  
  


_ The sands are hot under the beating sun, hotter than they’ve ever been before. Hotter than Spock thought they ever could be. _

 

_ He feels as though he is on fire. _

 

_ He’s never been to this place in the desert before, but something about it is familiar, as though the place were a part of him. On either side of him stands two human men, equally strange, equally familiar. Somehow, their presence is a balm. _

 

_ The scene shivers suddenly, and the view changes. There are more people now, Vulcans in ceremonial dress, all staring at him, waiting for something. _

 

_ There’s a mallet in his hand now, a gong before him. He goes to strike it. _

 

_ There’s a shout, an arm in his way. He looks up, and there’s no mistaking her: T’Pring, his betrothed bondmate. She’s older now, a grown Vulcan woman, and her eyes are cold. _

 

_ There’s another melting of scenery, and he stands in the sand now, one of the human men at his feet, dead. He doesn’t know who this person is, but there’s a sense of dread now. Whatever he has done, it was wrong. It was a violation. _

 

_ The calm is gone. All Spock can feel now is grief, grief stronger than that he felt when I-Chaya went still, grief so strong that it rips through his heart. So strong the sun feels cold. _

 

_ He looks up, at T’Pring. Her eyes do not match his grief, no. Instead, he looks at her and sees joy. _

  
  


*.*

 

Spock wakes, heart pounding, drenched in sweat. He bolts upright, ripping the sheet from his body and straining his eyes in the dark night lighting to see his hands. They are dry, unstained with the red human blood that he irrationally feared was on them.

 

He forces himself to take a deep breath.  _ It was only a dream. _

 

The thought fails to reassure him, however. His former hypothesis was flawed. There is something wrong with him, he knows it now.

 

But what can he do? He can’t go to his father, he wouldn’t understand. And his mother, she might make him go to a neurologist. Spock has spent enough of his life being poked and prodded by doctors that he is none too eager to open up a new line of inquiry.

 

It looks like all that can be done is what is already being done. Nothing.

 

Spock will just have to try harder.  _ Are you Vulcan or not?  _ He asks himself.  _ Then get control of your emotions. _

 

Some things, however, are easier said than done.

  
  


*.*

  
  


_ … I’ll take you home again, Eileen… perfectly logical… I’m in command… I’m a doctor not a bricklayer…  _

  
  


*.*

  
  


“You have not spoken to me in eight point seven days.” T’Pring informs him, having cornered Spock during their meal break. Without waiting for an invitation she sits at his otherwise empty table, directly across from him, staring him down. “Explain.”

 

“I do not wish to.” Spock stares resolutely down at the table’s surface. He does not dare look her in the eye, not with his fragile mental state.

 

Not with their bond.

 

“Have I done something to displease you?” She sounds curious, but otherwise indifferent.

 

“You have not.” He can feel her presence push at the edge of his shields. She wants to know why she’s being shut out.

 

He will not tell her. T’Pring has always been kinder to him than most of his peers, but he cannot trust her with this.

 

“It is illogical to express displeasure towards someone without giving said person the chance to make amends.”

 

She gives the tiniest of smirks there. She thinks she has him, and logically she does. Spock has to tell her something.

 

“Why do you never defend me?”

 

Her head tilts slightly in confusion. “I do not understand your meaning.”

 

“Yes.” A queer boldness overtakes him. “You do.”

 

T’Pring purses her lips. “Spock, I assure you-”

 

A spike of rage runs through him. “Your assurances are nothing but a fallacy and a lie. To speak falsehood is illogical and yet you do it anyway. You know very well what I am referring to.”

 

“Why are you behaving this way?” Her brows furrow. “Speak plainly.”

 

“Very well.” Spock takes a deep breath. “When our peers harass me you do nothing. They mock me, insult me, and you remain silent. On the occasions where they have resulted to physical violence you have not raised a hand in my defense.”

 

She at least has the decency to accept the truth. “You are correct. I have never once come to your defence. But neither has any one of your other peers. Am I to expect this conversation will be had with all of us in turn.?”

 

“No.” What started out as a distractionary tool has now, in Spock’s mind, become a serious point of contention. He finds himself suddenly saying things driven purely by emotion. “You are not the rest of our peers, however. You, T’Pring, are supposed to be my bondmate. We are supposed to work together, support each other.”

 

Her brows furrow into the hint of a frown. “We do not have to be friends.”

 

“No, but we should be. I wanted us to be.” His voice drops to a near whisper. “I had wished us to be.”

 

She just stares at him, at a loss for words.

 

“However, it has been made clear to me that you shall never see me as anything more than an irritation and burden. Very well. I give you permission to unburden yourself.”

 

Without waiting to she how she reacts, he gets up and walks away. T’Pring doesn’t call after him.

 

But the press of her mind against his fades to nothing.

 

She’s stopped trying to get in.

 

 

*.*


	3. Chapter 3

Months pass, and the dreams continue. They’re nothing detailed, not like the first two were. Merely feelings and glimpses, stories that Spock can not remember no matter how hard he tries. Upon waking they slip from his mind like sand through a sieve.

 

His control is slipping, he knows it is. But what can he do?

 

It’s not as though he has anyone to go to for help.

  
  


*.*

 

He must have lost track of the days, because even though he knew that he was coming, Sybok’s appearance comes as a surprise.

 

His elder brother just barges into his room without so much as a knock. “What are we sulking about now, little brother?”

 

“I am not sulking!”

 

“I thought that lying is illogical.”

 

Spock frowns. “You’re talking strangely.”

 

“And you’re changing the subject.”

 

He rolls his eyes. “I am merely pointing out the fact that your speech patterns have changed from that which I was familiar with.”

 

“Yeah, that’s a normal subject change.” Sybok ruffles - actually reaches out and ruffles - his hair. “I’ll leave you to your childish melodrama. See you at dinner.”

 

“I’m not being melodramatic.” Spock says, but only to himself. Sybok goes as quick as he comes. 

 

His brother is strange.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Strange though he may be, it is nice to have Sybok around. He’s not around much, always studying something or another, or traveling. It’s completely normal for Spock to go months without hearing so much as a word from Sarek’s older son.

 

Yet he is always kind to Spock, never makes him feel less-than-Vulcan. And even his verbal digs are lighthearted, and what his mother calls “friendly teasing.” 

 

Behavior that is allegedly common from older siblings.

 

Even still, Sybok’s behavior has been erratic lately. More emotive than any other Vulcan, quicker to reach conclusions. If Spock did not know better, he’d say that _ he  _ was half-human one. But it’s not like Spock is exactly the one to judge here. He’s a Vulcan that dreams.

 

And there it is. Like the terran cartoons he’s seen a handful of times, the feeling of a literal lightbulb going on above his head hits Spock. If he can talk to anyone, it would be Sybok. If anyone can take him seriously, it would be his very unserious half-brother.

 

He confronts him in the garden one afternoon. Their father at work, his mother gone to the market, there is no way for them to be overheard. No chance that Spock’s newest abnormality could be exposed.

 

“Sybok.” Spock calls, approaching the Vulcan kneeling in the sand. “I’m sorry to interrupt your meditation, but I need your advice.”

 

Sybok opens his eyes, and actually smiles. The sight is unnerving, though Spock can not say why. “No apology necessary. Speak you mind.”

 

He gestures to a bench next to a little patch of green, carefully kept alive by Spock’s mother. They sit, and a bolt of anxiety spikes through Spock’s chest.  _ What if he’s making a mistake? _ He forces the thought away, it is just human fear. He’s better than that.

 

“I was wondering if you knew anything about dreaming?”

 

Sybok’s eyes narrow. “A little. Why do you ask?”

 

Spock gulps. “Are there any records of Vulcans dreaming?”

 

“Not that I’ve read.” He’s nearly frowning now. “Have you?”

 

If Spock didn’t know that it wasn’t actually impossible, he’d say that his heart skipped a beat then. “I have,” he whispers. “Recently.”

 

“Fascinating.” he says. “When did it begin?”

 

Spock can’t meet his half-brother in the eyes. “After I-Chaya died.”

 

And just like that Sybok’s curiosity is gone as quick as it came. “Humans dream, did you know that?”

 

All Spock can do is nod. “I know that mother does, yes.”

 

“Little brother, as Vulcan as you are, you must remember that you are, at a biological level, half human. So you picked up a few psychological traits. It’s nothing to be afraid of.”

 

“Then why has it never happened before?”

 

There’s sadness in Sybok’s eyes now. “I’ve heard that human minds can develop certain dreams in response to stress or grief. It stands to reason that that is what is occurring to you. In time they should subsist, in theory.”

 

Spock shakes his head. “That doesn’t sound right.”   
  


“Well, what have you dreamed about?”

 

“I only really remember two of them.” Spock pauses, and his brother nods in encouragement. “In one father was sick, in the other T’Pring… well I’m not sure what exactly happened, but she was not...kind.”

 

“Well, then it’s clearly just grief.”

 

Spock arches an eyebrow. “Clearly?”

  
  


“Yes. You’re pet dies, and you dream of losing your father and bondmate. For dreams, that is surprisingly logical.”

 

Sybok seems satisfied with his conclusion, and honestly the idea of it is reassuring.  _ Maybe it is just that, human genetics, and childish illogic. _

 

“Thank you for your advice.”

 

Sybok nods. “I hope it is helpful.”

 

_ Me too.  _ “If you could not mention this to anyone else, I would be most grateful.”

 

There’s a flash of something uncomfortably like pity in his brother’s eyes. “Of course not. Not a word.”

  
  


_ *.* _

  
  


_ The first thing Spock notices is white. The white of the walls, stark and sterile, nothing like the brown sandstone he’s used to. The white of the artificial lighting, cold unlike the hot Vulcan sun. And the white of the chess pieces, standing in contrast to their glossy black counterparts. _

 

_ Then the rest of the scene rushes in. _

 

_ He’s in a room about the size of his dining room, but with far more purposes intended. There is a bed, and a desk, and shelves lining the walls covered in plants and books, and a few odd trinkets. But mostly books. It’s clearly a space meant to be lived in. And Spock sits at one side of the long asymmetrical desk, a three-dimensional chess board in front of him, and a human man across from him. _

 

_ Something about the man is familiar, but Spock has never met him before. Yet somehow, he knows him. _

 

_ Without making the decision Spock reaches out and moves a white piece up a level. “Check.” _

 

_ The Human grins, an illogical response to finding out that they are about to lose a game. “You play a very logical game, Spock.” _

 

_ “Thank you.” He doesn’t know why but the compliment warms him. _

 

_ “But there’s a problem with logic, you know?” The man grins, flashing his teeth. “It’s predictable.” He moves then, the most inconsequential slide of a pawn. At first Spock doesn’t understand the point the man is trying to make. And then he sees. _

 

_ “Checkmate,” Spock says for him, his eyebrow rising almost to his hairline. “How…?” _

 

_ “Illogically.” _

 

_ The man winks, and the scene goes black. _

  
  


*.*

  
  


“Your conclusion is flawed.” Spock nearly shouts at his brother as he barges into his room. “You claim my dreams are just a projection of stress. But how could I dream of someone I’ve never met, and places I’ve never seen if that were the case?”

 

“Spock, I -”

 

“There is something else going on, I know that there is. I will not have my distress dismissed as childish illogic and emotional instability.”

 

“Okay.” Sybok throws up his hands in a gesture of defeat. “Okay, I believe you.”

 

Spock sighs in relief. “So what do I do?”

 

Sybok presses his lips together in a thin line for a moment before answering. “I go back to the VSA in two days. I’ll see what I can find out, alright?”

 

“You will inform me if you learn anything relevant?”

 

“I promise.”

 

“Then that is acceptable.”

 

“Of course… it would be more helpful to know exactly what it is that I am looking for.” There’s a pause. “You could meld with me, show me what is plaguing your mind.”

 

“I don’t think that would help.”

 

“It would. If I could just see what you’re seeing… It could help me get answers. You have to see the logic in that.”

 

And he does see the logic there, he does. But there’s just something  _ off.  _ He doesn’t know why exactly, but something deep inside of him is balking at the thought of another person seeing those dreams. “I disagree.”

 

“Why? I want to help you, Spock. Let me.” And his argument is rational. It is. But there is something in his eyes, something Spock doesn’t have a name for.

 

For the first time in his life, Spock is frightened of his brother.

 

“I said no.”

 

The air of  _ something _ is gone suddenly as it came. “Very well, I’ll see what I can find on my own.”

 

 

*.*


	4. Chapter 4

Spock never gets to find out whether or not his half-brother found anything useful. Because it’s only three months later that his father picks him up early from class, looking grimmer than Spock has ever seen him.

 

“Has something happened?” Worse case scenarios are crashing through his head. “Is mother well?”

 

“Your mother is fine, Spock.”

 

“Then what warrants this break in my normal schedule?”

 

Sarek sighs, and Spock’s eyes go wide. “Sybok has been arrested, we will discuss the details at home.”

 

The ambient noise of the learning center goes quiet in his ears. “I don’t understand.”

 

“Home. Not here.” His father’s tone does not invite debate. It rarely does, but now even less so.

 

The shuttle ride home is a tense, silent affair, both of them avoiding eye contact as well as speech.

 

The moment they walk inside, Spock is barreled into a hug by his mother. In fact it’s the first time she’s hugged him in over a year (when he politely asked her to stop her overly tactile displays of emotion toward him).

 

“Baby, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

 

“No, why would I be injured?” Nothing is making sense.

 

There’s a pause, his parents exchanging a  _ look _ before his father speaks. “I came to collect you because your mother feared for your safety today.”

 

He almost frowns. “Why?”

 

Amanda cards her hand through his hair in a gentle caress before releasing him. “Your brother was involved with some dangerous people, Spock. We were worried that, with all the emotions in the city today, that something bad might happen.”

 

They aren’t telling him anything. He can feel a simmer of anger starting to overtake the fear. “What people? What did Sybok do?”

 

“It was a cult, a group of religious extremists.” His father’s voice is cold. “Sybok was caught melding with people against their will, and forcibly altering their state of mind.”

 

“Sarek!” Amanda gasps. “We agreed not to tell him that, you  _ said - _ ”

 

“- there is no use in disguising the truth. He is bound to find it on his own.”

 

His mother’s face goes red, something that Spock has only seen a handful of times. “So you thought that you’d just tell him something like that, without asking me first? What is the matter with you?”

 

The conversation isn’t about him anymore. But Spock doesn’t care, if anything he’s relieved. He couldn’t talk now if he had to. There’s too much in his own head. Shock, anger, hurt.

 

So he doesn’t say a word, just turns on his heels and runs into his room, slamming the door behind him.

  
  


*.*

  
  


_ I can not break the laws of physics…  a teddy bear… you keep going like you’re going and you’ll figure it out… Captain, I’m picking up whale song…  _

  
  


*.*

  
  


Sybok is sentenced to banishment from federation space, with a zero contact policy.

 

Spock is never going to see his brother again. If he’d known that the last time they spoke, he might have said something different. Something more personal.

 

Not just ask him for a favor.

  
  


*.*

  
  


_ What does god need with a starship? … by your side, as if he’s always been there…  phasers out, but keep them on stun…  _

  
  


*.*

  
  


Spock throws himself into his studies, both academically and in mental discipline.  With Sybok gone, there are only two people left on Vulcan that actually like him.

 

And they’re his parents. Not his peers.

 

Certainly not his friends.

 

So with nothing else to do he learns. He tears through texts like there’s a prize at the end He studies, and he reads, and sometimes to give himself a break he’ll play the computer in a game of chess.

 

And every night, before he sleeps, Spock spends an hour in meditation. He tries to control his feelings, wrangle his far too-human emotions into submission underneath his Vulcan mind. 

 

The hard work pays off. He rises to the top of his class. He’s tying with the computer in fifty percent of his games. And asl long as his eyes are open his control is impressive. The bullies at school barely even make him blink by the time he’s twelve.

 

But that's when he’s awake. Sleep is a different matter altogether.

  
  


*.*

  
  


_ … be wary female astronauts … I choose the danger … they are not the hell your whales … for the world is hollow, and I have touched the sky …  _

  
  


*.*

  
  


Months turn to years, and the better part of a decade slips by. But Spock never relents in his disciplines. The end of his formal education is drawing to a close, the end fast approaching. But the reality of that fact doesn’t set in until one night at dinner when his mother asks him what he’s going to do after graduation.

 

“You will go to the Vulcan Science Academy,” his father informs him before he even has the chance to answer. “And they will be fortunate to have you.”

 

“Sarek,” his mother chides, “Let him speak.”

 

Spock pauses, considering. “I admit to not giving the matter all the thought that it is due. However, the VSA is the most logical choice. Thank you for your advice, father.”

 

“See, Amanda?” Sarek nods, pleased. “Our son is going to do what is logical.”

 

His mother frowns. “What if they don’t take him?”

 

“I’m at the top of my class. My record is nearly flawless. They have no reason not to.” But they do have a reason, a big reason, and he sees that his parents know just as well as he does that the admissions council is full of xenophobic old fools.

 

“It is… logical to cultivate multiple options,” his mother hedges, “just in case.”

 

Her reasoning is sound. Spock gives a curt nod. “I shall consider your advice.

  
  


*.*

  
  


_ He’s in a hall, or an amphitheater of some sort. He stands upon the stage, figures beside him. But in front of him… _

 

_ In front of him are hundreds of beings, of all different races, standing in front of their seats, rising near to the ceiling. So many he can not make out faces, but just the swarm of color, the bright crisp uniforms of Starfleet. _

 

_ Someone is speaking, but he can’t make out the words, he’s too focussed on the crowd. They are all staring at him. But they are not the stares he’s used to: stares of fear and hatred. No, these are looks of pride, of friendship. Almost joy. _

 

_ There’s a human man standing in front of him now, smiling as wide as the rest as he reaches forward and carefully pins a medal to Spock’s chest. _

 

_ “Good work, son.” _

 

_ And there’s more than pride in that humans voice, there’s love. And everyone is clapping and cheering, and it’s for him. It’s for Spock. _

 

_ He wonders if this is what belonging feels like. _

  
  


*.*

  
  


In the morning, he applies to the Vulcan Science Academy. And Starfleet as well. His mother was right, having multiple options is logical.


	5. Chapter 5

To say that his admissions hearing with the Vulcan Science Academy went poorly would be an understatement.

 

Yet he barely has time to decide how upset he wishes to be about the whole ordeal when he receives his acceptance into Starfleet Academy.

 

That certainly simplifies things.

  
  


*.*

  
  


The first time Spock sees Earth, through the window of a shuttle, all he can see is  _ blue. _ It looks to be a whole planet full of water, nearly glowing with the refraction of sunlight of the surface. He has a moment where he wonders how they’re going to land on the ocean.

 

And then he sees the land.

 

Spock didn’t know that the universe could hold that much green. As they get closer to the ground the green makes way to grey and the cold blue of glass, the landscape of the city enveloping the view.

 

When the shuttle doors open, it’s the cold that hits him first. Cold, and moisture, more than he’s ever felt. And then the noise.

 

San Francisco is louder than Shi’Khar. And not just with the noise of traffic. The wind is loud here, as are the people. He can hear the low roar of a crowd, and looks around to find it, before he realizes that the whole city is the crowd.

 

This will take some getting used to.

 

He finds the green again on the Academy grounds. The whole place is just one big splotch of green with buildings growing out of it. The paths are winding and hilly, with no logic to their arrangement that Spock can see. But he makes it to orientation early anyway.

 

And from that moment on, Starfleet keeps him busy.

 

They have him on a modified schedule, to keep pace with what he was used to on Vulcan. He’s taking double the normal course load, and been assigned a job in the administration office. When all is said and done, he’s only going to have two hours of free time a day until the winter break.

 

It’s perfect.

 

If only it was enough to stop the dreams.

  
  


*.*

  
  


_ He’s standing in a small thicket of trees, in a small group of fellow officers, he knows that much by their uniforms. All around him are pale blue flowers, a faint melodic ringing coming off them not dissimilar to woodwind instruments. _

 

_ He goes up to one, and touches it, and the vibration and music halts. He lets go and it begins again, in the same frequency as if it had never been interrupted. _

 

_ It’s fascinating. _

 

_ A human man comes up beside him and repeats his actions. The man smiles at him, clearly finding joy in the action. _

 

_ “Captain!” One of the other men calls, and his companion turns away…  _

 

_ … Spock is under the same sky but in a different place. There’s a stone wall in front of him, and it will not yield. He shoves it, he fires at it, but it will not yield. All the while he feels a presence, stronger than anything he’s ever felt before, pushing at his mind. _

 

_ That presence, that force… it has his Captain. _

 

_ He’s behind that wall, and he can't get through. _

  
  


*.*

  
  


The years pass in a blurr. He finishes his studies, completing not only the science track but command as well. But when it’s all said and done, he doesn’t apply to any crew manifests.Spock isn’t sure why, but none of the prospects seem right.

 

Illogical as it may be, he feels as though he is waiting for something, or someone.

 

If his mother has taught him anything about intuition, it is that he’ll know an opportunity when he sees it.

 

So he signs up for a teaching position, and keeps his job in Administration.

 

He gets a teaching course load almost as heavy as the one he had as a student. And while it is not the most exciting of ways to pass the time, it is certainly engaging. Engaging enough that he sees no logical reason to make any changes.

  
  


*.*

  
  


When Spock is told that some Captain would be taking a position in Admissions, he didn't think anything of. Staff changes all the time here, with newly graduated cadets like him not quite yet ready to go out into the black, and space-weary crewmen wanting to keep their feet on the ground for just a little while, there is never a shortage of new faces among the staff.

 

No, it’s not until he strides into Captain Pike’s freshly assigned cramped office, a PADD in need of a few signatures in hand, that he thinks anything about the situation to be outside of routine.

 

Pike is human, male, and middle aged. He looks up when Spock walks in, and smiles in greeting.

 

“Good morning, lieutenant. What can I do for you?”

 

For the first time in his life, Spock is well and truly speechless.

 

He knows that face.

 

It was in his dreams.

 

Pike frowns. “You alright, son?”

 

This was the man from the award ceremony. The Captain with the singing flowers. Someone who he’s never seen before, and yet recognizes, and the duality of it is nearly unbearable.

 

But Spock is nothing if not disciplined. “Commander Shui needs your signature on these, Captain,” he says, handing over the PADD.

 

He tries not to stare as Pike takes the tablet from him. Spock tries very hard. He knows that humans find starring to be rather rude. Yet going by the look the Captain gives after he finishes looking over whatever is on the screen, Spock was not very successful.

 

“Have we met?”

 

“No, sir.” Spock doesn’t hesitate. He’s quite proud of himself for that. “Lieutenant, Spock S'chn T’gai, sir.”

 

“Christopher Pike.” The human sticks out his hand, then quickly withdraws it with a wince. “Sorry, no offence.”

 

“None taken, sir.” And he means it. “Humans are a very tactile race. To be offended by your nature would be illogical.”

 

Spock doesn’t realize that he said that last bit out loud until Pike starts laughing. “A Vulcan with a sense of humor, huh? You don’t find that every day.” The Captain grins then, and it’s  _ that  _  grin, the one that he had for the flowers in Spock’s dream. “Do you work in this building, Lieutenant?”

 

Spock nods. “Here, as well as on campus as an instructor.”

 

“Well, then I look forward to working with you, Mr. Sah.. seh-”

 

“-Spock is sufficient.”

 

Pike’s easy smile flashes again, “Mr. Spock it is.” He hand back the PADD.

 

“Thank you, Captain.” Spock nods again.

 

“Chris.”

 

He arches an eyebrow. “I fail to see how calling a superior officer by first name is professional.”

 

“It’s not.” Pike grins. “But only fair, seeing how I can’t even pronounce your last name.”

  
  


*.*

  
  


_ … If I hear the word ‘frequency one more time, I’ll cry… it was a Russian invention … we did it, you and me … I’ll protect you, fair maiden! … don’t kill the one named Kirk…  _

  
  


*.*

  
  


There’s more strangers in his dreams now. More humans he’s never met. Whenever he closes his eyes there they are. Beside him, talking to him. And above all else, familiar with him. Spock can tell that much.

 

But there’s one stranger that shows up more often than the others.

 

The man from the chess match.

 

He’s not always the focus of the dream, but eighty-seven point five three percent of the time, he’s there. In the background, standing next to him. Smiling, talking, laughing, glaring, yelling. It doesn’t seem to matter. He’s just… there.

 

Spock doesn’t know anything about this man - other than what he looks like. And that he’s very good at chess. And he has a beautiful smile. And he’s kind. And - okay, Spock knows a lot about this man. He just doesn't know his name. Or if he even exists.

 

Though going by the physical existence of Captain Pike, chances are, he just might.

 

Speaking of Pike… Spock isn’t quite sure how to describe their relationship. It’s professional, but not cold. They go to lunch together sometimes. The Captain has even been brave enough to go to Spock’s favorite Vulcan restaurant (Vulcan spices are not known for being kind to the Human palate, which prefers much sweeter cuisine). And even though Spock’s job in Administration is really just a glorified secretary, Pike never seems to hesitate to ask him for advice.

 

Sometimes he even goes as far as to have Spock look over a prospective students application. “I could do with a second opinion,” as he likes to say. But on the occasion that Spock asked him if a third opinion would be helpful, Pike shrugged the suggestion off.

 

“I doubt they’ll be able to find anything you missed,” he answered with a smile.

 

Spock thinks this is what friendship might be.


	6. Chapter 6

_ Spock in sitting crossed legged in a field of grass, a lute in his hands that he plucks idly, tuning it. The sky above him is lavender, soft and warm. Around him is the bustle of what he knows to be what humans call a picnic.  _

 

_ There’s a few dozen people scattered around the field. Some are running around, playing some sort of game with a ball. Others sitting on blankets sharing a meal. One man nearby is pointing excitedly at some flower and babbling eagerly to the younger Human male beside him. _

 

_ There’s a warm, comforting weight on his leg, and he looks down to see the same recurring stranger using his thigh as a pillow. Stretched out on his back, he seems entirely focussed on the book in his hands, and unconcerned with the chaos around them. _

 

_ “You get any grass stains on my book, I’ll kill you, Captain.” States a dark skinned woman in a matter-of-fact manner as she collapses ungracefully in front of them. She smiles at Spock, and he realizes her threat is not genuine.  _

 

_ “Mhmm,” hums the man (their Captain apparently), entirely unconcerned. _

 

_ The woman turns her smile to Spock, eyes flashing with mischief. “Play something for me?” _

 

_ Spock pauses in his tuning, and runs a hand through the Captain's hair, earning a smile. “What would you have me play?” _

 

_ “Something I can sing to.” she answers. _

 

_ “Well, there goes my reading time.” The man says with a laugh. _

 

_ Spock shakes his head, and starts to play. _

  
  


*.*

  
  


He’s walking back to campus with Pike after their lunch break (Pike to go back to sorting through applications, Spock to teaching a physics course) when the Captain’s demeanor shifts. His playful nature is replaced by something more serious, more commanding, and Spock is suddenly reminded how much his friend out ranks him.

 

“I have a question for you, Spock.”

 

“I will do my best to answer it.”

 

Christopjer flashes a smile, and Spock is reassured that whatever the matter at hand may be, he has done nothing to upset the man. “I’m going to be getting the Command of a new ship in a few years.”

 

“I am aware.” Humans have a tendency to talk around things.

 

“And she’ll be needing a first officer.”

 

Spock nods. “Would you like me to make recommendations, sir?”

 

“I’d like you to take the position.”

 

Spock blinks, his stride almost faltering. This is unexpected. “Are you sure that I’m qualified?”

 

“Maybe not,” Pike admits, and Spock feels some semblance of reality returning. “But I know you’ll do a damn good job of it.”

 

“Sir, I am honoured, however - “

 

“Take the job, Spock.” Pike smiles at him. “Take a few days to think about it if you need to, get used to the idea. But take the job.”

 

This is surely some joke.

 

“I’m not joking.” Pike insists, seeming to read is mind. “ _ The Enterprise  _ would be lucky to have you.”

 

There’s something about that name. Spock doesn’t know why, but all of a sudden, the doubt is gone.

 

“Thank you, sir.”

 

Pike grins. “So that’s a yes, then?”

 

“Indeed.”

  
  


*.*

  
  


Pike’s request for his reassignment goes through quickly, it only takes two days. So now Spock finds himself a Commander in rank, and a first officer in title, even though the ship - his ship - won’t be ready for another few years.

 

He’s more than content to wait, but the brass seems to have the idea that secretarial work isn’t suited for someone of his rank. So his job in the Administration building is taken away from him. And while he does get to keep teaching his classes, there simply isn’t enough to fill his schedule.

 

Spock doesn’t know how long he can be this bored before he does something illogical.

 

The answer, as it turns out, is three weeks.

 

The Kobayashi Maru simulation test is a requirement for all students in the Command training track. It has brought several students to tears with how difficult it is to find a way to get to the other side.

 

But that’s the issue. There  _ are _ ways. The student body collectively has a success rate of eight point one seven percent. And for a test that endeavors to evaluate how people react to failure, the possibility for success is illogical.

 

Sealing those loopholes would be a stimulating mental exercise.

 

It takes the board longer to grant him permission to rewrite the code than it did for Starfleet Command to approve his promotion.

  
  


*.*

  
  


_ “Captain, I am obligated to remind you that under regulations, any attempt to halt the moon’s current trajectory would be considered a breach of federation law.” _

 

_ “Yeah, Spock.” His Captain’s voice is sharp, a harsh contrast to every other time Spock has dreamed of his voice. “I’m very much aware of the prime directive.” _

 

_ “Then you are also aware of what we are required to do.” _

 

_ “Yeah. Report, and move on.” The man has his gaze fixed on the view screen. Upon it is a moon, class M. Caught in the orbit of a gas giant, it spins as it’s own world, an ecosystem as diverse as any life-bearing planet, the species on it no less sentient than any of them. All of this data can be read easily from his displays. _

 

_ So can the fact that, as will be the fate of all moons, this one is about to go spiraling down to the planet below. _

 

_ “Twenty minutes to point of no return, Captain,” says a young man with a thick Russian accent at the navigation station, jaw clenched with visible tension. _

 

_ “All those people, Spock. We can’t just…” he trails off, and looks at him, desperation clear. “I can’t just do nothing.” _

 

_ “There is nothing else we can do.” _

 

_ The young man who spoke before frowns suddenly, and starts typing furiously on a PADD. _

 

_ Spock plows on. “A tractor beam would disrupt their atmospheric pressure. Any targeted explosions would be an ecological disaster.” _

 

_ The bridge is silent with the tension. A civilization is about to die, they as it’s witnesses. And there is nothing that can be done. _

 

_ There’s something in his Captain’s eyes. Something so human, Spock doesn’t have words for it. It’s past hurt, beyond sadness. Whatever the word may be, it’s not a look he wants to see again. Not on a face he’s used to seeing smiling. _

 

_ “We could send a team to the surface. See if there is a way we could alter the orbit without causing total havoc.” _

 

_ “Jim.” Spock says. “There is nothing we can do.” _

 

_ “Actually, sir, that’s not true.” The young ensign cuts in. I’ve done the math, and if we were to go into warp in just the right spot, the gravity wells could shift the moon’s trajectory and put it back in a stable orbit.” _

 

_ The Captain (Jim, his name is Jim) leaps out of the captain’s chair and strides over. That big empty somethingness about him is gone, now his shoulders are set with purpose. He leans over the younger man’s shoulder and reads quickly. “This could actually work. Well done, Mr. Chekov.” _

 

_ Chekov beams at him. “It will take a lot of fancy flying, sir.” _

 

_ Jim has the audacity to grin. “I think  _ The Enterprise  _ can handle it. What do you think, Sulu?” _

 

_ The helmsman takes the PADD and glances at it with a whistle. “It’ll be trickier than the stunt I pulled on my Kobayashi, but I’ll get it done.” _

  
  


*.*

  
  


Spock wakes up in a sweat. That man, who’s been haunting his dreams, his name is Jim. And if these dreams are real (and Spock is starting to believe that they are) he’s going to Captain the very ship that Spock just signed on to.

 

He searches in the Starfleet database for any Captain’s named Jim. Nothing. There are a few Jameses, but the second he looks at their files and sees their photo identifications,he knows that they’re not the right Jims. 

 

Neither are any of the Jims by the rank of Commander. Or Lieutenant. Or even Ensign.

 

None of the Jims in Starfleet are the right one. Five hours of scanning through personnel files tells him that. 

 

Maybe the right one isn’t in Starfleet yet. Maybe he’s only just applied.

 

Luckily Spock knows just the person to go to with that question.

 

He barges into Pike’s office, just before he knows the man will be taking his lunch break. “Good morning, Captain.”

 

“Hey, Spock.” Pike has a habit of forgoing formality. “How’s it going?”

 

“My day is adequate.” There really is no correct way to get the information he needs. He’s going to have to engage in Human small talk. “How are things in Admissions?”

 

“Fine.” He looks back at the screen on his desk with a small frown. “Just another day of convincing Terran’s to apply, and shooting down the ones that don’t make the cut.”

 

He’s not normally this pessimistic. Something is amiss. “Could I help you with something, sir?”

 

There’s a moment’s pause. “...Actually, yeah.” Pike pokes at a PADD for a second before handing it over. “There’s this one applicant that I’m really not sure about. I could use that Spock second-opinion.”

 

“Or course.” Spock tries very hard not to look too eager. Without even really working for it, he’s now holding a device with access to the Admissions system. “This might take longer than the five minutes than you have until your break.”

 

Pike smiles. “You’re a lifesaver. So I’ll grab a coffee, and something for us both to eat, and we’ll both take a working lunch?”

 

“A sufficient proposal.”

 

Chrsitopher leaves without further discussion, and Spock knows that he doesn’t have long. So he looks down at the application currently open on the screen.  _ Pavel A. Chekov.  _ Something about that name is eerily familiar. But he’ll get to that in a moment. He backs out, opens the search menu and filters.  _ Human, Male, Jim.  _ There are seven results. He opens each application, scrolls to their image, and then backs out, disappointed. He tries again with  _ Human, Male, James.  _ Fourteen results, all to the same end.

 

Frustrated, he pulls back up the file for Chekov, and starts to read. Just because his search isn’t going the way that he wanted it to, does not mean that he should fail in assisting his Captain.

 

So far so good. Excellent academic marks, no criminal record. But the child is just that, a child, only fourteen Terran years of age. Spock can see why Pike was indecisive. The logical thing to do here would be to advise Chekov to apply again in a few years.

 

Spock keeps scrolling, he should have all the data before he makes his case. When he sees his picture, he nearly drops the PADD.

 

He knows this boy.

 

He was on the bridge, in that dream with the falling moon. It was Chekov who was able to find the answer, to save an entire civilization from extinction. He was smart, and quick-thinking, and he certainly did not cave under pressure.

 

Spock will tell Pike to approve his application. He’s just going to have to come up with a more substantial reason than ‘he was in my dreams, and a most exceptional crewman.’


	7. Chapter 7

Time moves, a new semester starts, and Spock decides to drop the search for the Human named Jim. He’s getting nowhere, and he has other things to worry about. Such as his attempts to rework the Kobayashi Maru simulation

 

He thinks that he’s got most of it figured out. He’s closed up all the loopholes for any tricks with theatrical flight maneuvers, and every possible line of diplomacy, which were the two venues which lead to most of the odd successes.

 

He won’t really know if there are any further gaps in the programming without trial, so he books a solid three hours in the simulation lab a week out, and goes about his business.

 

Of course, easier said than done.

 

Especially when one Pavel Chekov walks into his class on theoretical physics. It’s all Spock can do to not react.

 

This is going to be an interesting year.

  
  


*.*

  
  


_ They’re all going to die. _

 

_ He realizes this, accepts it, and moves on. _

 

_ Their ship is dead in the water, the planet below experiencing a natural phenomenon that no living being has ever seen before, or will see again. And their only chance of escape lies in a powerless engine. _

 

_ And then they start moving. The crew cheers, the helmsman (the same one as before) begins to pilot them away. _

 

_ Jim appears on the bridge. “Scotty’s mad idea worked. I don’t know how, but it worked,” he tells Spock in a low whisper before heading to the Captain’s chair.  _

  
  


*.*

  
  


He had been asked to teach a course on Vulcan language this year. At the time, he had not thought anything of it. There was not any way in which that would be a problem.

 

At least that’s what he had though, until on the first day of the class when he looks at the relatively small group of students and sees a familiar face among them. He shakes it off, and keeps moving, doing his best not to show how rattled he is. But when he takes roll, and his call of “Uhura?” is answered with a swift “Here, sir,” all that he can hear is her singing voice.

 

In a class this small, it’s going to be very hard to keep his distance.

 

As it turns out, he doesn’t need to. Uhura is very smart, respectful, and if nothing else an excellent student. She picks up Vulcan faster than he’s ever seen a non-native speaker, and is conjugating verbs by the end of the week.

 

He’s actually going to be sad to see her go.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Spock gets into the simulation lab to find someone already there, supercomputers chugging away at whatever lines of data or coding that they’ve been fed.

 

The person occupying the control terminal doesn’t seem to notice him come in, too busy frantically scanning the data output.

 

“Pardon me, but I have scheduled the room.”

 

The man jumps, and spins around. “Oh, sorry laddie. I mean, sir, Commander, um…” The man smiles sheepishly, and rubs at his eyes.” I’ve been at this for a while now, didn’t realize it was time to go.”

 

The man is Human, in possession of the thickest Scottish accent that Spock has eve heard, and looks like he is about to fall asleep exactly where he stands.

 

“Anyway, if you just give me a minute to wrap this up, I’ll be out of your hair.” The man sighs. “Sorry again, Commander…?”

 

“Spock.”

 

“I’m Scotty. Or rather, Montgomery Scott, but everyone calls me Scotty. But you don’t care about any of that and I’m just babbling now on account of the lack of sleep and coffee, but you probably don’t care about that none either.”

 

Spock blinks slowly. He is not quite sure how to react to this kind of behavior. It isn’t distressing, just odd. Very odd. And yet there is something rather familiar about that voice. 

 

“Anyway, I’ll be out of your hair in just a tic.” He steps away from the panel, and starts throwing physical paper notebooks into a bag. “Sorry again, sir.”

 

That’s when it hits him. That voice was in his dreams, as was the name Scotty. He knows this man. “It is fine, Mr. Scott. I have had my fair share of engrossing projects.”

 

Bag packed, Scotty pauses. “Aren’t you the guy editing the Kabayashi?”

 

“I am,” Spock says, and holds up his PADD.

 

Scotty breaks into a grin. “Would you be interested in a second set of eyes, sir? I’ve been told I’ve got a knack for problem solving, and the fact that you’re having this thing check your work means that you’re a bit stuck.”

 

This man is very forward. But Spock trusts him. “I have only been able to get the theoretical success rate down to one point three percent.”

 

“And you’re going for zero.” The Scottsman nods sagely. “Alright, lets see her then.”

 

Spock hands over the PADD, and Scotty plugs it into the computer. The displays around them light up with code.

 

There’s a few minutes of silence as they both read before Scotty laughs.

 

“I fail to see what could be amusing.”

 

“It’s not funny, sir, really. You’ve done a real good job with this. You’ve put in place contingencies for every possibility.” The man looks away from the code to grin at him. “But you haven’t accounted for any of the  _ impossibilities. _ And that’s were the cadets will break through your little puzzle.”

 

Spock arches an eyebrow. “To plan for that which can not occur is illogical.”

 

“Exactly. But you’re dealing with humans, Commander Spock. Illogical is a given.”

 

“I’m not sure I take your meaning.”

 

Scotty frowns for a second, then snaps his fingers. “So you know how it would be impossible to divert all power on a ship to… let's say the shields, because life support has seventeen different fail safes?”

 

“Yes.” Spock has no idea where he could be going with this.

 

“Well, fail safes don’t mean anything if you take a laser and cut through the power lines heading toward the life support control system, and cap the ends of the wires. In which case the ship’s computer would automatically divert the power to where it was needed.”

 

“Adding extra power to the shields and buying more time for the ship to get away from the danger.” Spock’s eyes widen with understanding.

 

“Exactly.” Scotty grins. “So you see? If you want to make this simulation of yours truly unwinnable…”

 

“I have to plan for the impossible.” He nods. “Thank you, Mr. Scott, you have been most helpful.”

 

“No problem at all.” The man sighs. “If only I could solve my own problem so easy.”

 

Spock raises an eyebrow. “I could see if I may return the favor?”

 

Scotty shakes his head. “Nah, this is something I have to do myself. I’m sure you understand.”

 

“I do.”

 

“Well then, I’ll leave you to it.” The Human throws the strap of his bag over his shoulder. “Nice to meet you, Commander.”

 

Left alone, confidence renewed, Spock gets to work.

  
  


*.*

  
  


_ … needles and sutures … you travel halfway across the galaxy and they sing the same song … are you sure you don’t know what ‘irritating’ means … I’m beginning to think I can cure a cloudy day … _

  
  


*.*

  
  


After she stops being his student, Uhura somehow becomes his friend. She cornered him after her final, asked if he would like to get coffee with her, and gave him her contact information. All in flawless Standard Vulcan.

 

Spock knows before even grading her exam that she passed.

 

Since then, she has been nothing but pleasant company. 

 

He is surprised to realise one day that he now has a total of two human friends. Surprised, but not displeased.

 

Nyota is excellent company.


	8. Chapter 8

_ He has a sword in one hand, an old fashioned, heavy bronze thing. In the other he grips a shield, round, small and heavy for its size. His foes attacks with ruthless efficiency, blow after blow landing hard. _

 

_ Spock doesn’t know how he’s going to get out of this. _

 

_ And then he sees out of the corner of his eye, another dueling pair. He doesn't understand why but the smaller man isn’t actually fighting, just ducking and deflecting what he can. He only knows that he is familiar, and he is most certainly not going to survive unaided.  _

 

_ He swings wildly with no warning, striking down his opponent and rushing to the stranger’s aid. _

  
  


*.*

  
  


Spock finishes the upgrades to the Kobayashi Maru with two years left until the deployment of  _ The Enterprise _ . WIth more free time on his hands, he volunteers to proctor it.

 

When the first student fails, he fails quickly.

 

The second takes a little longer.

 

By the twelfth undebatable failure, Spock is confident in his success. The student body is not so pleased, a fact that he finds entirely irrelevant.

 

And thus time passes. He teaches, and he watches them fail to beat his test, and he waits for the day that he gets to go out into the stars.

 

The waiting is the hardest part. If he did not know better, Spock would accuse time of crawling to a halt.

 

Fortunately he does know better. Days turn to weeks. Weeks become months. And the months pass into years. The next thing he knows, it’s only four months until  _ The Enterprise’s  _ maiden voyage. He’s starting to get excited again.

 

Even more so now that Pike and him are actually starting to pick the crew.

 

As it turns out, proctoring the Kabayashi simulation has another purpose other than killing time. He gets to watch the cadets fail, and he gets to judge their character, their reactions to pressure. He gets to decide whether or not they have grace in defeat. Few do.

 

Those that somehow manage to impress him get added to his ships duty roster.

 

None so far have impressed him as much as Hikaru Sulu.

 

The monet that the man walked into the model bridge, Spock nearly broke his PADD in shock. Right there in front of him was  _ the  _ helmsman. The one from his dreams. He vows not to be biased, to judge hm the same as all of his classmates. But even if Spock did not have that bias, he would have been impressed.

 

‘Fancy flying’ indeed. 

 

His is the most glowing recommendation that he sends along to Captain Pike.

  
  


*.*

  
  


_ … It’s right in front of me … but do you love the man, as if he were apart of you … a thousand points of interest in yosemite and you choose me …  the biology of vulcans … the needs of the one, outweigh the needs of the many …  _

  
  


*.*

  
  


When Spock sees who walks into the Kobayashi simulation he goes numb. He hears the PADD that had been in his hand clatter to the floor, is dimly aware of the other students filing into the room. But he doesn’t care. All he cares about is the cadet sitting down in the Captain’s chair.

 

It’s  _ him. _

 

Spock had so long given up on finding him that he hadn’t even thought twice when he had read the name of the student that morning. But now it’s all he can think.  _ James T. Kirk. His name is James T. Kirk. _

 

It takes all of Spock’s Vulcan discipline to look away, pick up the PADD, and begin the test.

 

Jim fails, of course. But he comes the closest to truly testing Spock’s claim that the test was unbeatable.

 

In fact, out of four hundred and eighty one Command track cadets, he’s the first one to even try to reason with the enemy. He makes in thirty four minutes without a single phaser being fired, and by the end of it, holds the high score for the longest run.

 

Spock is almost sorry to see his ship explode.

 

But when it’s all over, and Kirk leaves without so much as a glance up at the balcony where Spock watches, he doesn’t know what to do. He gives him an excellent performance review, obviously. And sends along his recommendation to Pike. And although that is the end of his duty, he feels like he has to do something else.

 

He can’t just let this opportunity slip away. He’s been dreaming about this man for twenty years. And suddenly, with no warning, he was in the same room, and left without a word.

 

It would be madness to do nothing.

 

It would be madness to confront him.

 

Logically, he needs more information.

 

As the first officer of a ship, and with the rank of Commander, SPock has access to a lot of data. Much of that data is personal information about his fellow Starfleet officers, that he took a solemn vow never to violate or misuse.

 

It is in that exact pool of data that he finds and pulls up every record about James T. Kirk about thirty seconds after he walks into his apartment.

 

The first thing he finds is a rather impressive academic record, and an equally impressive criminal one. All low level offenses. Minor assaults. Public Drunkenness. Hacking. Breaking and Entering. And more traffic violations than Spock thought a person could have and still keep their license to operate a vehicle.

 

He doesn’t understand. He may not now the man in his dreams that well, but he thought that he understood him. That he had a good judge of character. He thought Jim was a good man.

 

Spock doesn’t want to be wrong. Not about this. So hoping for some explanation he keeps digging.

 

The next things that he finds aren’t about Jim at all, but his father. Captain Geroge Kirk of the  _ Kelvin. _ Spock doesn’t need to read the files on that. He knows what happened to that ship as well as any other member of the Federation.

 

And while the fact that that whole ordeal is connected to Jim is an unexpected piece of information, it’s not the most helpful. None of this is.

 

In fact none of this is helpful at all. So Jim is a genius, he records show that, but SPock already knew that from what he had seen in the dreams. The information about his father is entirely new, but he doesn’t care who Kirk is related to. The criminal record is unnerving, but there very well may be a perfectly reasonable explanation. After all, Starfleet must have thought so when they enlisted him.

 

Yet when he goes looking for an explanation, he finds nothing. In fact, there’s a few years where, according to all records (academic, medical, financial, and travel) James T. Kirk ceased to exist.

 

He vanished in 2245, and reappears as if nothing had happened in 2248, with a sudden penchant for getting arrested.

 

Spock puts down his PADD with a sigh. Looking up Jim’s records was a mistake, he knows that for certain now. He violated the man’s privacy, and for what?

 

All he has to show for it are more questions.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Jim seems determined to set records. It’s exactly a week later (a week Spock spends trying to act like he isn’t losing his mind) that he shows up to take the Kobayashi Maru test again.

 

The calm collected patience that got him so far in the first (and should have been only) attempt is nowhere to be seen. The simulation has barely loaded and he’s ordering his crew to fire everything, launch the shuttles, and prep medical.

 

Their shields are spent and ship destroyed in under three minutes. Another record, though not one to brag about.

 

But this time when the screens go dark and the lights come up, Jim doesn’t dart out. This time he stares straight up at the viewing balcony and glares.

 

Spock looks away.

  
  


*.*

  
  


He’s going to have to confront him. Spock has no idea what it is that he will say but he has to say  _ something _ . The silence is driving him insane. He’s dreaming about Jim every night now. The dreams themselves are different. Quiet moments, meetings. Firefights and reckless chasees. Scrambling in some dark place for any hope of escape and laying contented on a sunwashed beach. None of the dreams are the same in any detail except one.

 

He’s always with Jim.

 

And with every dream he feels as if he knows the man more and more, as though they have been friends for years. And with that knowledge, he knows one thing with absolute certainty.

 

Jim is not going to stop until he beats this unbeatable test.

 

So all Spock has to do is come up with a way to talk to him the next time he throws himself against the Kobayashi. Simple enough. What could go wrong?

 

As it turns out, everything goes wrong very, very quickly.


	9. Chapter 9

Vulcan is gone.

 

So is Nero, but that victory seems hollow. The Earth, maybe even the Federation itself is saved, but none of it matters. Not when Spock’s entire world is gone. Vanished. As if it never was.

 

His mother tries to talk to him, but he shrugs her off. He’s too unguarded, to raw for her brand of emotionalism.

 

His father tries to speak to him as well, but Spock is too angry for logic.

 

Seeking solitude, he heads for one of the observation decks. With everyone not actively on duty crawling back into their quarters to sleep, he should not have any company there.

 

At first glance, the room is empty. There’s empty chairs, the even dim lighting extinguished, the only illumination coming for the stars through the wide glass wall.

 

Suddenly he realizes that he’s not quite as alone as he thought.

 

Laying on the ground against the glass, apparently asleep, is Jim.

 

Concerned, Spock walks closer. “Captain?”

 

“Hmm?” Jim’s eyes slowly blink open, and then widen. He bolts up into a sitting position, and runs a hand through his hair. If that was in effort to smooth down the side sticking up, it was an effort wasted. “Hey, Spock. What’s up? They need me somewhere?”

 

“Not that I’m aware of.”

 

Jim relaxes slightly at that, and leans sideways, his shoulder against the glass. He looks as tired as Spock feels. Still in uniform, wearing a split lip, and dotted with bruises, he looks like if it weren’t for the reinforced glass wall beside him, he would just fall over. Spock regretts waking him.

 

“Did you intend to sleep here?”

 

“Yeah. Might as well, you know?”

 

“I do not.” Spock sinks to the ground two feet in front of his Captain, and presses his back to the glass.

 

Jim huffs out a breath of air that might have been intended as a laugh. “There really isn’t anywhere else for me to go. I don’t exactly have assigned quarters.”

 

Spock arches an eyebrow. “You are the Captain.”

 

“Not really.” He flashes a bitter smile. “That’s Pike’s room. I’m not just going to take it. And besides, I’m only the acting Captain, remember.”

 

He had honestly forgotten that part. After all of that, the Admiralty could still take the  _ Enterprise  _ away from him. From all of them. The thought makes him uneasy. Ignoring his own discomfort, he plows on. “ _ The Enterprise  _ has additional unassigned quarters for extra crew, passengers, and diplomatic envoys.”

 

“All taken by the Vulcan’s we’ve picked up. And medical is packed.” Jim shrugs. “I’m really fine here.”

 

“Are you certain?”

 

“It’s a nice view.” Jim smiles at him then, and it’s  _ that _ smile, the one that Spock is so strangely familiar with. He’s beginning to think he might be the same man from his dreams after all.

 

They sit in silence for a while, just staring at the stars. And then Spock notices that Jim’s literally fighting to keep his eyes open.

 

“You don’t need to stay awake on my account. I can leave.”

 

Jim sighs in relief. “Yeah I’m passing out. You don’t need to go though.”

 

“No?”

 

“I don’t mind.” Jim falls backwards unceremoniously, and closes his eyes. “I think I like having you around.”

 

Spock knows that sleeping on the floor of the observation deck is illogical. He has his own quarters. He’s imposing on Jim’s already limited privacy. It will probably be uncomfortable. But he’s so tired, and he’s already on the ground. And Jim’s presence is soothing in a way that he can not articulate.

 

So against all reason, he lays down, stretches out on the cold floor of the observation deck a few feet away from his Captain, and closes his eyes.

 

For the first night in years, he doesn’t dream.

  
  


*.*

  
  


When they finally get to Earth, their reception is chaos. Refugee aid groups, Politicians, Medical, and Engineering crews converge in the hangar as shuttle after shuttle carries the occupants of  _ The Enterprise  _ to the surface.

 

The process takes hours. And as the first officer, Spock doesn't get to leave until the end. So by the time he gets to the planet’s surface (a ride down that he spends resolutely pretending not to stare at Jim) the hangar bay is in a state of pure chaos.

 

The second their feet touch the ground, Jim is darting off. “I’m going to go find Pike, I’ll catch you at the debrief later!”

 

Spock doesn’t really have the time to respond. Nor does he have any inkling as to what to do now.

 

And then he sees his father alone near a refueling shuttle. He should probably apologise for being so rude to him before.

 

“Father.”

 

The older Vulcan turns around. “I am not our father.”

 

And he’s not, Spock can see that now. But there is something so strangely familiar about him, and he just said ‘our father,’ as in  _ both of their father _ and… the penny drops.

 

The elder walks toward him. “There are so few Vulcans left, you and I can not afford to ignore each other.”

 

Jim’s miraculous reappearance aboard the ship suddenly makes a lot more sense. “Then why did you send Kirk aboard when only you could have explained the truth?”

 

“I could not deprive you of the realization of all that you could accomplish together, of the friendship that would define you both.” There’s kindness in the elder’s eyes. A familiar kindness. Even knowing that this is himself, there’s something about this  _ version  _ of himself that strikes him as not foriegn. “You needed each other.”

 

Spock nods at that. He can feel it too. He doesn’t know exactly in what capacity, but the dreams have told him that he belongs by Jim’s side. But he still doesn’t understand how his elder self could have been so illogical. “How did you convince him to keep your secret?”

 

“He came to the conclusion that universe ending paradoxes would ensue should he break his promise.” There’s mischief in his eyes.

 

“You lied.” Spock’s eyebrow rises is shock.

 

“I implied.” His older self nearly smiles. “A trick I learned from an old friend.”

 

It’s then that Spock realizes, the older Vulcan in front of him knows more about him than anyone else in the known universe. If he’s ever going to get an answer about the dreams, this would be his chance.

 

“I do have another question for you.”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Do you know where the dreams came from?”

 

He frowns slightly. “What dreams?”

 

“The dreams I have. Of everyone, I’ve had them almost as long as I can remember.” 

 

The look he receives is pure confusion. Spock feels the hope that he had plumet. “I’m afraid I do not know of what you speak.”

 

“So you do not dream?”

 

The other Spock shakes his head. “Vulcans do not dream.”

 

“Then why do I dream of them?” Spock gestures around the hanger. “Every night, since the desert, I have dreamt of them. Of Pike, and Jim, and Nyota. I’ve dreamed of the  _ Enterprise _ and Triskelion. I’ve seen androids, and supernovas, all of it from behind closed eyes. There has to be a reason.”

 

“Yes.” The older Vulcan frowns slightly, and then it hits him.

 

“Selek.” Spock’s eyes go wide. “You are not me, you are my cousin Selek.”

 

“I did pose as our cousin Selek once, on another trip through time.” The older Spock (Spock decides to think of him as Selek to curtail the headache he’s developing) tilts his head in confusion. “How did you know this?”

 

“That’s when the dreams began. After you rescued me in the desert.”

 

He can see Selek have the same realization as him. “We must have melded. When I carried you home. After all, both of us were in emotional distress.”

 

“And I had not yet learned to control my telepathy properly.” Spock adds. “I must have been absorbing memories from you the entire walk back.”

 

“And that was quite a long walk.”

 

The relief of the explanation, of knowing that everything that has been haunting his subconscious is real, is more than Spock can describe. There was never anything wrong with him after all.

 

Selek seems to sense his emotionalism. “I will leave you to process. Feel free to contact me if you are in need.”

 

“Thank you, sir.”

 

At that Selek smiles. Actually, really smiles. It is odd to see. “Of course. Since my usual farewell would seem oddly self-serving I will simply say ‘good luck.’”

 

And with a casual ta’al, he is gone.

  
  


*.*

  
  


They give Jim  _ The Enterprise _ . Which isn’t really a surprise, considering the way that the media has been singing his praises, but it’s still nice to know for certain that after all of that, he gets to stay. Spock asks for his place back as first officer immediately after the ceremony, and Jim has the audacity to laugh.

 

“I fail to see what is amusing.”

 

“The fact that you thought I would have given the job to anyone else.”

 

Everyone else signs back on quickly as well, by the end of the week they have a full crew. The ship itself however, is not so quick to recuperate. She needs repairs, and an entire new warp core, and those sorts of things take time.

 

Time that they all get to spend on Earth.

 

Spock is can’t wait to find out what these people are like when he’s awake.

**Author's Note:**

> So this project was absolutely amazing to work on from start to finish, so much so that I don't want to end it there. So I'm not going to.
> 
> There will be a sequel, and I may have already got a good chunk of it done. For updates, follow me on [tumblr.](https://not-freyja.tumblr.com)


End file.
